A Dragon's Tale
by White Phantom
Summary: Long before Amy Ford came to Azeroth, the black dragon flight plotted the downfall of the world, though, as with any plans, there was always that -one- dragon there to make sure things went wrong. This is Brath's story of how he came to be a mount. R&R, please.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft or any of its characters. Seeing as this will be several chapters, please let this disclaimer serve for them all._

_A/N: So, I know I said look for this around the end of June, but here's the first part of it. Hopefully, it will be finished by the end of July. As always, reviews are loved and I thank you all for reading!_

…-…

"How many times am I going to have to talk to you about this? My patience is growing thin."

Warchief Rend stopped in his tracks, backing up a few paces to peer into the supplies room. It seemed silly, but there, amidst the satchels of grains and crates of trade goods, stood Nefarian of the Black Dragon Flight, one hand crossed over his chest to support the elbow of the other, that hand pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut and it was quite possibly the only time the warchief had ever seen the dragon lord lose his composure.

The warchief could honestly say that, while he was glad for the alliance between the flight and his people, the dragons had always kept to themselves somewhat. That is to say, they were 'happy' to deal with blackrock problems (most were rather easily fixed with either fire breath or a quick snack), but dragon problems were always handled behind closed doors.

And apparently said doors led to the supplies room.

Nefarian was not alone, though the human figure standing before the dragon lord had his back angled toward the door, so the warchief couldn't tell who he was. Not that he probably could have if he'd seen his face. Those soft skins all looked the same. Even the ones only pretending to be soft skins.

The presumably second dragon shrugged his shoulders lightly, long dark hair shifting over his puny shoulder blades. Well, puny by an orc's standards. No doubt human women would label him quite the catch. Humans had such low standards. Did they even care if their mates could tear enemies apart with their bare hands?

The warchief was drawn from his thoughts as the creature spoke, his voice weak, like silk.

"Dearest brother—"

"Brathrion, don't," Nefarian snapped, glaring. His eyes flickered darkly and Warchief Rend considered going about his business lest his eavesdropping be discovered and he angered both dragons, but then…what orc let a little fear deter them from the chance to even out the power balance in an alliance?

If he could get something on the dragons…

Nefarian was still talking. "Our sister is embedded with those creatures! If you keep provoking them, they're going to demand attention and resources be used against us. Even if that _didn't_ put our sister in a position where she'll have to strike against her own kind just to avoid suspicion, it will draw adventurers' attentions to us."

"So we'll have a good meal." The other dragon dismissed, before adding, "And that's what Arulion who ate those villagers, not I."

"Arulion, the fool who looked up to you? Arulion, who was hunted down this morning? Arulion, whose scales are now likely adorning some pitiful mortals footwear?" Nefarian growled. "That Arulion?"

"He shouldn't have gotten caught eating people," the other dragon shrugged. He reached out and drummed his fingers against a crate, the claw like tips pricking holes into the wood. "If all you wish to do is complain to me about our fool brother's passing and that our sister has bitten off more of the kingdom than she can rule, I don't' see why you needed _me_. Couldn't you have hunted down Zaercia for this little heart to heart? I hear she's quite interested in all that sharing and caring nonsense."

"We have been working for a very, very long time," Nefarian took in a slow breath, as though trying not to snap. The warchief frowned as he realized the air had grown warmer and he was beginning to sweat. However, just as he was about to dismiss this dragon drama as something akin to what humans constantly bickered about—seriously, how could humans have such a skewed view of the world?

Only last week, the spire had been infiltrated by a small group of adventurers from the Alliance and they _could_ have done some serious damage or in the very least reported how well armed and the like the Blackrock clan was. However, instead of focusing on the mission and putting it above all else, they had fallen into petty infighting. Apparently the mage, Becky, had accused the warlock, Tiffany, of sleeping with her lover, their group's warrior. The resulting catfight had alerted the nearby sentries and on their way over, they'd seen the corpses of their brethren littering the path and had wisely gone for back up instead of simply charging after the group. Even General Drakkisath had asked Warchief Rend about the fight, having heard echoes of the drama all the way in his chambers.

The warchief wasn't sure what was more annoying, the fact that the dragons seemed to think the orcs would be interested enough to be able to regale them with tales of what had happened, or the fact that a few of his orcs actually could.

As he considered that he should probably leave the dragons to their 'catfights', whatever those were, Nefarian's next words recaptured his attention.

"If they focus on us, they may learn of our father's condition or they may find solid leads on the cult. If even one fool can infiltrate the cult, years upon years upon centuries of plans will be overturned." Nefarian reached out and gripped his brother's arms. "Even you cannot be so foolish as to throw all that away. After all, you've invested your time into this, same as the rest of us."

"That I have, brother dear," the other dragon scoffed. "And I would appreciate if you'd remember that before accusing me of trying to sabotage it all."

With that, the dragon turned on his heels and sauntered out of the room, pausing to smirk at the warchief as though he'd known the orc had been there all along. Warchief Rend glared after him, though he froze for a moment when he realized that Nefarian had come to stand beside him, leaning in the doorway as he watched the other dragon disappear around a corner.

"Nefarian, I was…" the warchief trailed off, not sure why he was bothering to explain himself. After all, that would almost be like being afraid of him. And was Warchief Rend afraid of some giant, scaly beast?

He frowned as he realized that even in his soft-skin form, the dragon was still taller than he was.

"Warchief," Nefarian spoke the word in such a tone that made it sound like the most noble title one could bear. "I am…ashamed to ask it, but do you think you could help me with a rather…personal matter?"

The warchief stood at attention, his curiosity piqued. "Of course, dragon lord."

Nefarian offered a quiet half laugh, putting his arm around the orc's broad shoulders. "Walk with me."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for reading and for the reviews! And I don't know about that, Zap. After Deathwing's demise, the dragons were made mortal, so I think Brath would age with Amy._

…-…

Meryl Thachett took in a slow breath as she sunk down along the wall behind Lakeshire's town hall, the action only causing to further tangle her short blonde hair. Why did the guards have to run _so_ fast? They were wearing plate, weren't they? She grimaced as she looked down to see a small cut on her arm, though in truth, she was sorrier to see that her shirt was ripped. After all, cuts and bruises healed.

Finding the time and/or gullible enough neighbor to steal another shirt from, however…that'd be a real pain.

She ran her fingers over her arm, frowning as her fingers were bloodied from the process, and then sucked in her breath, pressing herself further into the wall as she heard footfalls nearby. For fuck's sake, couldn't they just drop the search already? She'd stolen golden bracelets that hadn't warranted this much attention.

She looked down at the small journal in her hand, wondering if revenge was really worth it.

Jamal Ohaerre was easily the biggest jackass she'd ever met. He was a mage and he just loved to rub it in to all the 'common folk' that he was smarter than they were, for truly, only those with immense intellectual prowess were capable of mastering the arcane. Whatever that meant.

Meryl had accidentally taken the coins from the lockbox she'd opened for him _once_ and somehow thirteen silver had been enough to ignite an eternal grudge. Before then, she'd had a fairly easy life. Sure she had no real home and pretty much everything she owned had once belonged to someone else, but things hadn't been so bad. She'd always had enough to eat and sometimes she even made some money with legit tasks helping people out in Redridge.

And then she'd had her incident with Jamal and it'd all gone to hell. Every chance he got, he was freezing her feet in place so that she'd have to stand in the middle of the street, arms crossed and fingers drumming as she waited for her toes to thaw enough for her to kick free. He'd threatened to set her hair on fire once, but she'd managed to get around that by crying to a guard.

Then he'd started tracking her, trying to get the guards to catch her in thieving ways.

It had been too much. She'd just wanted a way to get him to leave her alone and so, when she'd heard the creep talking about some super important book that he was expecting, she'd been thrilled.

If she could get a hold of it first, she could blackmail him into leaving her alone. Perhaps she'd give him a page a day or…or maybe make a copy and just threaten to send it to someone important.

Meryl had figured she'd think that far ahead if she actually managed to get the book, though, now…she almost wanted to simply toss it into the lake and be done with it. It had been almost too easy to steal the book from the courier. She'd just brushed against him and as she'd apologized and he glared, she'd lifted the book right out of his bags.

It was so simple…so…

Dammit, it had been a trap, hadn't it?

Meryl slipped along the wall when she was sure the guards weren't coming her way and deeper into the woods near the town. When she was sure she was further than they'd likely look for her, she pulled herself into a tree and sat on one of the lower branches, crossing her legs at her ankles as she set the book in her lap.

If it was something important to a mage, she probably wouldn't understand it. So there was no point in looking inside, right? After all, it'd just be magical gibberish and all that. She lifted her hands and started tossing the tome back and forth in her hands. As far as books went, it didn't seem to terribly old. There wasn't any sign that it'd sat in some forgotten library for ages, it's wisdom lost to the world. And actually, it looked like it hadn't been bound very well. Some of the pages stuck out awkwardly and she cursed quietly as she gave herself a paper cut on one when she caught it.

How funny would it be if she could pick up spells from a grungy looking book?

Mages were always going on about how their trade took such skill. Maybe that was all a load of bullock and if she read a bit, she'd be able to show Jamal a thing or two?

She wasn't sure why opening the book suddenly seemed so important, but she did. As she rested it in her lap and flipped to the first page, she frowned, realizing that it was written on a higher level than she'd ever learned. She'd never needed to know more than how to read and edit a merchant's order or a traveling caravan's manifest.

"Ta-wy-ly…" She frowned as she tried to sound out one of the first words. She was pretty sure that there weren't any _real_ words which started with a T and a W. Honestly, who had written this?

She closed the book again, losing interest in any attempts to learn magic. She'd stick with her current skill set.

However, even as Meryl wondered how she was supposed to get word to Jamal that she had what he wanted, and how she could go about ensuring that he would leave her alone if she gave it to him, she felt a light, warm wind on the side of her face, sending a few strands of hair over to tickle her nose. She made a broad stroke with her hand to push them from her face and frowned as her hand thwacked into something hard near her head. Warm air brushed over her skin again and she turned her head slowly to stare into a pair of large golden eyes set amidst coal black scales.

For a moment, she looked just past her hand to see the elongated, pointy teeth sticking out from under the dragon's scaly lips and her mind completely blanked. All it would take to lose her hand would be a quick snap. Hell, it'd probably take her head off with it.

With a sharp, sucked in breath, she jolted off the branch and onto a higher branch, though she frowned as she realized she was just screwing herself over. The damned thing was huge. It's wings were folded against its back and its tail curled around the tree, the end looking like some massive barbed mace. The dragon itself was merely standing with its body beside the tree, its long neck letting it easily peer over her shoulder from the ground on her previous perch. It lifted a massive, clawed leg onto the branch she had just been on and started to lift itself up so that it could reach her again.

Meryl had never seen a dragon before, aside from a few poorly drawn sketches on wanted posters—she'd always laughed at the fools who went to hunt the damned things, as she was not of a mind to get skewered and eaten. Now, however, it occurred to her that all those heroes had apparently missed the most important one: the one living not a mile from Lakeshire.

Did it live here? Or was it just passing through?

She didn't consider asking it. Instead, she'd already climbed a branch higher, not liking that it was seemingly intent on following her moves. It cocked its head as it watched her, its gaze following hers as though easily figuring out all the escape strategies that went through her head. She wasn't sure what bothered her the most, that it was doing so, or that it didn't seem to feel the need to adjust itself to make up for any.

As she tried to swallow her fear, the creature bared its teeth in what almost looked like a twisted smile, smoke beginning to curl from the between its teeth. However, even as she froze, not knowing whether to dare the claws and tail or wait to see if dragons really did breathe fire, the creature's lips dipped down, a frown if ever she'd seen one.

"The book, my dear."

Holy shit, dragons could talk?

More importantly…

She straightened up slightly as she realized that the reason the damned thing hadn't eaten her or torn her to pieces yet was because she still had the clump of parchment gripped tightly in one hand.

Even as the creature drummed its tail into the ground slowly, impatiently, making the tree itself jar a bit from the force, Meryl felt her pulse slow. If the dragon needed something she had…

It was almost as though she were against Jamal. Well, if Jamal had sharp, nasty teeth and likely planned on snacking on her after their business was done.

"The book," Meryl whispered. She eyed the dragon again as it nodded its head once.

"Just drop it down and I'll be done with you, I promise."

She didn't trust the damn thing for a single breath. However, slowly, she held the book out, watching the way the dragon's focus seemed trained on it. She slipped her other hand into her pocket and found the smoke bomb resting in her pocket, thanking the light and whatever else there might be that she'd been prepared for more of a struggle from that courier earlier.

As soon as she'd thrown it, straight into the dragon's face, she bolted from the tree, narrowly escaping getting crushed by the tail as the creature roared and swung its tail about, uncurling itself from around the tree.

She didn't wait to see how long it would take the dragon to recover from her attack. Instead, she sprinted back toward town, hurdling over fallen logs and a small stream—funny how she hadn't remembered crossing this far into the woods when she'd been escaping the guards.

The guards…

Even as she remembered that they were possibly still looking for her, she let out a curse as the ground beneath her erupted in ice. She managed to twist herself around as it solidified around her feet so that her momentum didn't snap her ankles and instead simply broke the ice before it could catch her completely. However, even as she rolled onto her feet, ignoring the sting of her cut up knees and palms from the fall, she froze, several swords being held toward her.

"There was a dragon—" She started, though as she spoke she remembered the book and looked around in time to see Jamal standing a few feet behind her captors, leaning down and curtly picking up the tome. He dusted it off and gave her a glare before turning his back and leaving her to face the consequences of her actions.

~"~

Meryl sat in the tiny underground room that was to serve as her dungeon until they ported her off to Stormwind to be thrown into the Stockades. It was actually the inn's supply room and, though she was chained to the wall, it _was_ still a wine cellar, so, at least for the time being, she couldn't complain much.

She'd tried to tell them about the damn dragon and she thought she'd gotten through to one of the guards, but of course the others had been quick to accuse her of trying to create a distraction and one had just had to be practical and ask where the damned thing was if it had been so close on her heels, like she'd claimed.

She had to wonder that, too.

It had seemed like it really wanted that book, so why not chase after her?

Even as she drummed her fingers against one of the bottles and wondered how much more trouble she might be in if she added it to her list of things taken without permission, she heard steps on the stairway and she set it down quickly, stepping to the side so that she could see who was coming to see her.

She had a few friends who'd grown up to be guards and she was praying that they'd be able to pull a string or two and get her out of this mess with perhaps a fine and a promise to never do it again.

As her visitor came down the stairs, she saw the swish of a robe and lost interest almost immediately. She'd been wondering when Jamal was going to come gloat. Honestly, she was rather surprised that he hadn't done so the night before when she'd been caught.

However, even as she tried to think of a fitting, witty insult for the arrogant bastard, she hear a soft laugh and a deep, vaguely familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I would like you to know how inconvenient this is for me."

There was no mistaking that voice. But…it couldn't be.

She turned and stared at the man who had come down the stairs. He was handsome—way better looking than most of the poor saps in Lakeshire, anyway—with bronze skin, long dark hair that spilled out from beneath the hood of his cloak, and—he'd taken to leaning against one of the nearby kegs, exposing his bare arms from beneath the folds of his cloak—he looked incredibly well tones.

As she stared at him in utter disbelief, she saw a glimmer of gold in the shadows of his hood, where his eyes would have to be.

He gave her a moment, cocking his head as he looked her over, before motioning toward her with a strong, large hand—she couldn't help but notice that his fingers looked a little more clawed than she was used to seeing.

"Now then, I believe we were discussing the return of a certain book…"


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry that it's such a short chapter! And that it took so long… I'll try to have the next chapter out by Friday. As always, thank you for reading and for the reviews!_

…-…

"About that book…Simply put, I need to make sure it doesn't—"

"DRAGON!" Meryl screeched, "There is a DRAGON down here!" She started to dart closer to the stairs—as close as her tethers would allow, at least—when she realized to do so, she'd have to get closer to the strange man.

He, however, seemed more off put by her shrieks than fearful that he was going to be found out. "Yes, that's right. Yell that the man who's offered to pay heavy fines for your release into his custody is a fire-breathing lizard. I'm sure your fellow townsfolk will appreciate that."

Meryl paused mid-word as what he'd said registered. She eyed the dragon for a moment, obviously doubtful of his truthfulness. Even if he wasn't a dragon, his speech implied that he was either noble or simply learned. She let her gaze leave his face and wander over his robe. It was in soft reds and browns and definitely looked like something Jamal might wear. Was he a mage then? Had he just made himself appear to be a dragon earlier or—

He certainly didn't _seem_ very monster-like.

Looking back at his face, she narrowed her eyes slowly, searching for any tell that she could use against him.

He returned the stare, cocking his head much as the large reptile in the woods had, his long hair falling around his tanned shoulders. He was still leaning against the nearest keg, though he seemed content that she wasn't going to start screaming again and began to speak. "As I was saying, that book I saw you with before is a very dangerous book. It holds great power…power that even one as disinclined to magic as yourself surely felt." He hesitated, giving her the opportunity to affirm or deny his suspicions. When she merely stared at him blankly, he shrugged, letting his gaze leave her to wander the room. "I was tasked with guarding this book, but to my shame it was stolen. Now I need it back before it falls into the wrong hands."

He offered her what was easily one of the most charming smiles she'd ever seen, though something about his eyes made it seem sinister in one. A glint of mischief, maybe? She frowned, realizing she couldn't place what about him put her at ill ease. Perhaps it was as her mother used to say, the most wicked monsters had the most reassuring smiles.

As he leaned his chin into one hand, she realized that his other arm was resting against the keg with his palm up, as though he simply expected her to hand over that strange book, just because he'd asked nicely.

She somehow felt a pang of guilt as her shoulders slumped forward. "I don't have the book. Jamal got it…" Meryl trailed off as she thought of what the dragon had just said and then of how Jamal had been expecting the book. Of how angry he had seemed when she'd taken it and how, rather than scold her publicly, he'd chosen not to draw attention to himself or his newest acquisition.

She felt a knot in her stomach, which only served to tangle tighter in her gut when she looked up to see the dragon was eerily still, though his fingers on his outstretched hand had curled into a fist.

Meryl shivered, though she couldn't place if it was from fear or guilt. "I-I'll help you get it back!" however, even as she spoke the words, a small part of her whispered that it was a bad idea. After all, if the dragon's intentions were pure, why not present himself like this before? Why come after her in dragon form and…

She smiled at him, knowing it would look genuine. Being able to feign innocence was one of the few tricks of her trade that she's completely mastered and partially why she'd been able to live for so long without getting caught in her endeavors.

What she would do, as much as it pained her to even consider, was talk to Jamal. She'd explain her idiotic reason for stealing the damned tome and then let him know that there was a dragon after it. She knew that mage-bastard far better than this creature in front of her and she'd be able to tell with a few simple questions whether that book had truly 'fallen into the wrong hands'.

With a shrug, she motioned to her cuffs. "So, I guess that means you'd better get someone down here to undo these, huh? If I'm being released and all."

"That won't be necessary, they already gave me the key."

As he produced the small, rusted piece of metal and tossed it to her, Meryl felt uneasy. Who would give the keys to a prisoner's shackles to some random stranger? Could dragons do some kind of mind control to get things they wanted?

However, if it got her out of those cuffs…

She undid the locks with ease and then offered the dragon back the key. He smiled as he took it back and tossed it a few times in his hand. "Now then, I assume if you can help me get that book back, that you know where it is?"

"I know who has it," Meryl nodded, though she quickly held up her hands. "But I think I should go alone to get it." As the dragon narrowed his eyes, she shrugged. "It's this jerky mage, right? He has it. And, well, I'd wager mages can sense dragons. And if he's one of the bad guys, well, we wouldn't want him detecting you and casting a spell to make you useless or anything, right?"

He watched her for a moment before a slow smile tugged at his lips. It made him look wicked and she had to fight not to shudder. "If you think that would be best."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I felt really bad about how long the last chapter took to post, so I'm going ahead with this one. _

…-…

Meryl stared blankly at the stone wall across from her, her mind numb. Her lips were chapped and bleeding and she was just about ready to say whatever she had to, to get some damn water. But she couldn't do that, now could she? That would be letting that dragon bastard win.

She barely registered the footfalls outside her door or the clink of a key in the lock to her cell. She'd heard horrors about the Stockades all her life, but what she should have been afraid of was the dungeons beneath Stormwind castle, the places where the pompous pricks running things squirreled away prisoners who needed to have their brains picked.

As it was, she hadn't eaten in days and she was only given minute amounts of water to keep her going…at least until she 'confessed' for her sins.

The guards stopped in front of her one of them crossed his arms. "You got a special guest today, so if you've got any sense left in that head of yours, be polite and tell the truth for once in your miserable life, you hear?"

The truth…

It was all she'd been telling them, since she got there, and it wasn't enough.

But then, it was all she had, wasn't it? And if she kept to her story, to the truth, eventually they would see that she was innocent, right? That this was all some horrible misunderstanding? That she'd been framed?

She heard soft silks rustling as someone else entered the room and she had to wonder if some noble lady or gentleman got their kicks from harassing the damned. However, as she looked up, thinking that perhaps this new set of ears would actually _listen_, she saw who it was who had come to visit her and she felt all of the earlier hope she'd been clinging to seep out of her.

The woman in the doorway never took her eyes off Meryl as she addressed the guards. "We'll speak alone."

~!~

Meryl had told the dragon to meet her in an hour at an old fallen log just outside of town. While he'd seemed skeptical that she could get the tome in such little time, she'd feigned bravado and assured him all would be well.

As soon as he had grumbled something about trust and wandered off, she'd made a beeline to Jamal's home on the outskirts of the other side of town. She would talk to him and see which side she needed to be on. From there…either she'd steal the tome or warn the guards that there was a dragon nearby. Once they caught the damned thing, they'd have to believe her, right?

It wasn't until she found herself rooted to the floor that she considered that simply talking might not go over so well. However, this time, things were different. Jamal was apparently still bitter about her handiwork earlier. Rather than simply rooting her and leaving her to stand there in humiliation, the ice was working its way up her legs, freezing her through her flimsy leather armor. She looked around the room frantically before she saw Jamal sitting in one corner, partially hidden by the shadows. His face held an unusual amount of disdain and disgust as he glared her down.

She held her hands up in surrender, glad that she hadn't bothered to swing by the smithy to steal her daggers back. It wasn't like it would have been hard, after all, Lakeshire had quite possibly the worst security in the Eastern Kingdoms. However, she'd figured it would be a waste of time and she'd been figuring that she'd just sneak in _unnoticed_… So much for that.

"I'm unarmed! Please! Just hear me out!"

Jamal's eyes narrowed and she felt like promising him whatever she could think of to get him to let her go, until she realized that the ice had stopped just below her knees. She took in a shaky breath, though her resolve had barely returned to her when she noticed a staff tapping dully against the floor next to her foot.

"Talk fast or I shatter your legs."

Meryl yelped at the thought and before she could consider tact and all that, she started speaking quickly, unable to hide her terror of the whole situation as she looked up into Jamal's stern face. "Look I don't know what's in that stupid book of yours but I thought if I got it I could make you leave me alone, you know, a trade off. But then that dragon showed up and he let me out of my chains and he said that that book is really bad and that in the wrong hands it could do a lot of damage and he wants it back, so—"

"A dragon…?"

For a moment, Meryl was confused by the surprise on Jamal's face. After all, she'd said there was a dragon in the woods, hadn't she? However, before she could snap a quip about his hearing, he shook his head and began pacing. The threat of being frozen solid seemed to have subsided and she watched him closely, though it occurred to her that if he had been the villain, he'd have killed her the second she mentioned the dragon.

She tried to wonder if he was simply trying to use her to outsmart the creature, but then…Jamal had never been like that.

As he kept pacing, she felt her guilt from earlier returning. This time, toward him. That pacing was something she'd seen him do before when he'd been asked to conjure a spell that could help with something or other—she hadn't been paying attention, since she figured she wouldn't have to thank him for helping the town if she didn't know what he did—and she could practically see the pieces falling into place as he murmured softly under his breath and his gaze flitted back and forth, looking over imaginary pieces to some puzzle.

She felt her heart sink for a moment as she considered that Jamal had never truly done anything to be considered a bad guy and it had just been her personal disdain for him that had allowed her to even consider it. After all, that dragon had easily been far sketchier than Jamal had ever been.

"What color was it?"

"Huh?"

"That dragon. What color were its scales?"

He looked impatient as she tried to understand where he was going with this. Whatever was going on, he'd figured it out, assuming she answered his question right. "Black, I think? But it was dark when I saw him looking like a dragon, so maybe he was just a really dark coloring… What does it even matter—"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He looks human right now," Meryl snapped, before she could stop herself.

Jamal's eyes widened for a moment before he let out a single, disbelieving bark of a laugh. He ran his hand down his face, and then through his hair, shaking his head slowly. "If that's the case, then…"

"What?" Meryl hated being left in the dark. "You think there are just dozens of dragons wandering around pretending to be human?" She abruptly baulked at the thought. The one she'd seen still had traces that made him look draconic, but what if there were some who could hide that?

"You're such a novice it's amazing," Jamal shook his head as Meryl snapped a quick retaliation. "To think I thought you could be part of the Twilight's Hammer." When Meryl simply gave him an annoyed, indignant look, he frowned. "The Black Flight is led by Neltharion. He's a wicked creature who was defeated years ago, but…there have been rumors that someone else has taken the reins and that they're plotting something big. Something about Twilight." He crossed his arms, inspecting Meryl as if he'd never really seen her before. "That book ties into it all. With it we'll finally be able to get a step ahead of them. Now then about that dragon..."

Jamal darted around Meryl as though she were a permanent fixture in his home that he was used to avoiding every day. As he went to a small coat stand next to the door, Meryl struggled to twist around at her waist so she could keep her eyes on him. Stupid ice.

"If we can catch it, perhaps we can crack the cipher the book is in faster. Do you know where it is?"

"Behind you."

Meryl felt her heart stop as she heard the dragon's voice from somewhere near the doorway. She tried to whirl around, but the ice on her legs held fast and she found herself straining her ears, waiting to hear Jamal cast some spell or…something.

Instead, she heard footfalls come around her other side and she turned her head, at first relieved to see Jamal, though even as she felt herself relax, he slumped forward to the ground. The dragon dropped Jamal's cloak on top of him as he flipped a dagger through the air slowly, a half smile on his face.

She stilled as she realized it was one of _her_ daggers.

"You humans are so amusing, the way you think you're so much smarter than you are." He came to a stop in front of her, still flipping the dagger slowly. "Granted, you're clearly not an exemplary example of your species' intelligence. Honestly, what kind of rogue has never heard that the best way to beat a caster is to kill them before they can cast?"

Meryl's eyes snapped back toward the mage lying at her feet. "Jamal? Jamal get up!"

"The dead don't rise this far south," the dragon taunted, turning his gaze to look over the room. As he started toward the hall leading to the backroom and the stairs, he paused to drop Meryl's dagger. "Now where do you suppose he hid that book?"

It could have been a life time that Meryl had stood there, trying to chip away at the ice on her legs so that she could kneel down and check on Jamal. All of her hate for him had disappeared and all she could think of now was that it was her fault that he was lying there. If only she'd been brave enough to turn the dragon down. Or smart enough not to lead him straight to the book he was after.

However, even as she noticed the blood edging across the floor away from his body, she smelled the smoke and it only took her a moment to realize that the house was on fire. As the flames consumed more of the home, the heat finally thawed out her legs and she gripped Jamal's arm, trying to drag him out of the house with her, though she was ashamed as she realized that even as a mage, he was too heavy for her to lift.

She knelt beside him and rolled him over, choking on a sob as she realized that his throat had been cut from ear to ear with her weapon. As she covered her mouth to keep the smoke from her lungs, she leaned down. "I'll make sure people know about the dragons and the book, okay? I-I'm so sorry…"

Even as she escaped the flames into the cool night air, she was grabbed by guards and thrown to the ground. Meryl looked up frantically, recognizing the captain of the guard standing over her as another man shackled her hands behind her back roughly. "You have to hurry! Before the dragon gets away! He—"

She let out a gasp as he kicked her hard in the ribs with his plated boot. The pain exploded through her on impact and she found herself trying to curl up into the dirt to make it stop. Even as she held back a hiccupped sob, fingers went through her hair and she was jerked up off the ground so that she could look into the man's eyes.

"Private Millson thought of you like a little sister! He volunteered to watch you so that nothing ill befell you and you repaid him with a lightdamned knife in his back? For what? A damned key to your shackles? A _book_?"

Meryl felt like time had stopped. Private Millson? As in…Brett Millson? He was one of the best men she'd ever known. They'd grown up together. Sure she'd been a street rat and he'd had a family, but he'd always left his leftovers from dinner on his windowsill so that she wouldn't go hungry and he'd even taught her how to read what little she could. When he'd gotten married, it'd broken her heart because she'd always had it in her head that somehow they were going to live happily ever after.

Brett was dead?

She tried to swallow her panic. It couldn't be true. "The dragon said—"

"Oh, the beast talks now, does it?" The commander spat on her face, abruptly releasing her hair and letting her crash to the ground. "Tell me, did the beast also sneak to the smithy and steal your weapons for you? Did it also kill Private Daggard because he'd been passing by and saw the great beast picking the tiny lock?"

Meryl's eyes widened slowly as she looked up at him, a numbness taking over her mind and body. She thought of Jamal's body, that they would find when the flames died down. Of her dagger, that was still lying on the floor beside him.

As she was hauled to her feet and forced onto a horse for the long ride to Stormwind, she kept going over everything in her head again and again. There had to be something the dragon had done…some slip up. Something she could point out to prove her innocence and to warn everyone that the dragons were far more dangerous than the stories of fire-breathing monsters lurking in caves.

There had to be _something_.

~!~

A scream rang out from the dungeon and the guards jerked the door open, one of them already cursing that they'd allowed the private conversation to occur at all. As they hurried in, they stopped, one's eyes widening as he looked to the far wall to see blood already pooling on the floor and staining the elegant fabric of the noble lady's gown.

"Lady Prestor!"

The dark haired woman looked up, a frown in place as she let her hands fall away from the lowlife rogue. The young woman held a shiv in her hand—where she could have gotten it was beyond either of the guards' imagination—and her throat was slit. Lady Prestor rose to her feet, her eyes still on the body. "I tried to reason with her, but…"

"You're not hurt, are you?" One of the guards stepped up to her and started to reach out to put his hand on the lady's shoulder, but stopped himself. Something about Lady Prestor had always unsettled him, though he could never place what.

"I'm fine, though…I would have rather had information than this…_confession_." She spoke the last word with such venom, it made the two men recoil. She looked at them, a grim smile in place. "She said that she would never let the Twilight Cult's secrets be known and then she…" She motioned to the body.

"I thought we were looking for something called the Twilight's Hammer?" One of the guards objected.

Lady Prestor shrugged, stepping away from the corpse and toward the door. "Perhaps she slipped up and offered us real information in her dying words, then?" As she reached the hallway, she looked back at the men, her expression eerily calm. "I trust you can clean up this mess? I need to send word to a few contacts about this turn of events."


End file.
